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  1. - Top - End - #661
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Cristo Meyers's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Definition drabbles

    Mi'ir (Cristo)/Mordokai
    Accentuate - verb : accent, emphasize; also : intensify
    Spoiler
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    Something was wrong. Frowning slightly he took stock of his surroundings. Mi’ir was babbling on as usual, it wouldn’t have surprised him if Mi’ir talked so much he suffocated himself to death.
    No, nothing was different. He stopped and turned a full circle, “What’s wrong Mordokai?” queried his bard. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped. “Mordokai?”
    “Your accent has changed.”
    “Took you long enough to notice didn’t it.” The bard reverted back to his normal accent and they walked on. When did Mi’irs’ talking become a pleasant normality? And why did he miss it when it was gone?
    Ick...way too far behind...

    I think this is my favourite so far...if only because this is something I've actually done to someone...

  2. - Top - End - #662
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    RabbitHoleLost's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Something I thought of and promised weeks ago.

    The Love That You've Looked For
    RabbitHoleLost/Vespe
    Spoiler
    Show

    Familiar bass beats reverberated throughout her body, curling through her fingers, up into her mind, down her spinal cord...to rest uncomfortably in her stomach. It was some horrendous pop song, remixed with electronic sounds, blaring along messages of perfect, pristine love.
    Lies.
    Then again, Rabbit didn't come for the music, or even to dance. Rabbit came for the women. Beautiful, strong women who understood the loveliness of a few curves. Who were gentle, soft, kissable.
    She wasn't sure when she had realized she was attracted to other women...a lesbian, though the word sounded so harsh and almost dirty to her. Perhaps she had always been, always known, and had only been strong enough to come to terms with it those past few months.
    Months of slipping out the backdoor while Vespe slept, muttering strange things in his sleep about purple koala bears and alternate time lines.
    Rabbit hadn't meant to lie to him; she did love him, in some manner. Romantically.
    Silly, to counter her constant serious moodiness, snuggly and cuddly, always pleasant, always willing.
    Perfect in every way.
    But one.
    The one thing that shouldn't have mattered, not at all, seemed to cast everything else as inconsequential. It tore her apart on the inside to come to understand that Vespe as Vespe was would not be enough.
    And so she had begun her nightly escapades to those most dark, mysterious corners of the earth; Lesbian clubs.

    This particular night was no different than the rest; as she entered, several women's attentions diverted to her, and she gave them all a cool smile, her ego sufficiently stroked. She was vain and occasionally shallow, and none of those women by the door struck her as the one.
    None of the women from any of the nights before had, either, for that matter, and she was beginning to quickly lose hope. Maybe it hadn't been that she was attracted to women; maybe she just wasn't attracted to anyone.
    What if there was noone out there for her?
    The thought terrified her, and she drank deeply of her double-tequila-shot Margarita, falling further and further into her despairing doubt.
    And then she saw her.
    She was attractive, but not quite beautiful. No, beautiful wasn't nearly the word. Handsome. The woman approaching Rabbit with small, measured steps was uncommonly and unequally handsome, with dark hair falling straight to her back, a small, quirky smile on her face.
    Rabbit found herself immobilized as the woman sat down next to her, and opened her pink lips to speak.
    "You know, these skirts are incredibly uncomfortable. I'm not sure how you wear them."
    "Vespe?!" It was unmistakable, now that the woman was so close, small pointed ears exposed. The same eyes...Oh, Rabbit was in trouble now.
    "Shhhh!" The bard-ess hissed, looking about at the women watching them carefully. The other patrons of the club/bar had noticed Rabbit come and go alone everynight, with not more than a few words spared to any of them. That this relative stranger seemed to catch Rabbit's attention was curious, and Vespe was not keen on a horde of jealous lesbians discovering his actual gender and tossing him out.
    "But..how...I.." He..or she, rather, shushed her by digging around in her small bag, withdrawing a matchbook with the clubs name on it.
    "You thought I really spoke about purple koala bears in my sleep? I knew you were going out everynight." Vespe's smile disarmed Rabbit. He wasn't angry, or even upset.
    Of course, this is Vespe... Rabbit was the one to pitch a fit and scream and whine. Vespe would deal with things with laughter and smiles, until she joined him in joyous giggling.
    It was the way it had always been done.
    "I can stay like this, if you want. I feel kinda pretty." And suddenly, Rabbit was crying, throwing her arms around her companion, burying her tear-stained face into the long, clean hair.
    It was true, Rabbit cried often. But the words she blubbered inbetween her cries and sobs were what differentiated the occasion.
    "Vespe, I love you, Vespe. No matter what, no matter which way."
    Softly, Vespe patted her hair, chuckling.
    "This is like that Pina Colada song." Rabbit grinned up at Vespe, singing in a rather off-tune voice.
    "I never knew
    That you like Pina Coladas
    Getting caught in the rain
    And the feel of the ocean
    And the taste of champagne
    If you'd like making love at midnight
    In the dunes of the Cape
    "

    "Then I'm the love that you've looked for
    Write to me and escape.."

    Rabbit paused, frowning, before she broke into an unrestrained laughter.
    "Those were totally the wrong lyrics."
    And as they left, arm in arm, Vespe shrugged.
    "Artistic license."
    Last edited by RabbitHoleLost; 2008-12-01 at 03:32 AM.

    "This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
    You have too many words in your head.
    There are too many ways to describe the way you feel.
    You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
    You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much"

    — Iain S. Thomas
    Avatar by Qwernt

  3. - Top - End - #663
    Troll in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Next segment is ready.

    Ghost Warlock and the (Un)Holy Grail, Part Four
    Cobra_Ikari/ghost_warlock/Happyturtle
    Spoiler
    Show
    Beyond the forest home of the Knights Who Say Ni, Ghost Warlock and Happyturtle continued on their search to find the enchanter of whom the Old Man from Scene 24 had spoken. They asked questions of other travelers and the odd villagers they encountered. They were met with few leads.

    After travelling for many days they chanced upon a man in a grey robe who wore a strange hat with curling ram horns. He stood on a hillside and carried a twisted staff. He was hurling balls of flame amongst the nearby hills and trees.

    Figuring the man to be a wizard or sorcerer, they decided to ask him if he knew where they could find Tim the Enchanter.

    “Excuse me,” Ghost said as he approached. “I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions, you see…we’re…” Ghost trailed off as the man turned around and revealed himself to be…Cobra Ikari. He adjusted his ram-horned hat.

    “Oh, no,” Ghost groaned.

    “I…am an enchanter.” Cobra proclaimed.

    “Please don’t tell me you’re…”

    “There are some who call me…Tim?” Cobra smirked.

    “You mean to tell me that, after all the time we’ve spent chasing after dead-end leads looking for this enchanter fellow…” Ghost closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. “I…have this pain, here. You mean to tell me… I…am finding myself having to fight a very strong urge to hurt you. A lot.”

    “Er, you seek the Unholy Grail?” ‘Tim’/Cobra asked, somewhat sheepishly.

    Turtle sighed and crossed her arms. “You know we’ve been looking for it for ages.”

    “Seriously, you made us run around practically half the country and deal with the madmen who dwell here, those insipid knights, when you knew all along...”

    “Yes, I can help you find the Unholy Grail,” ‘Tim’/Cobra said, hurling a ball of flame at a nearby tree.

    “Oh, wonderful, thank you,” Ghost said sarcastically.

    ‘Tim’/Cobra swelled with self-importance. “To the north there lies a cave: the cave of Caerbannog wherein, carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock, the last words of Ulfin Bedweer of Regett proclaim the last resting place of the most Unholy Grail.” From his staff ‘Tim’/Cobra fired another gout of flame, engulfing a nearby stump.

    Ghost sighed. “You know what? Fine, I’m over it. Where could we find this cave, O ‘Tim’?”

    “Follow!” ‘Tim’/Cobra turned to go, but stopped suddenly. “But! Follow only if ye be men of valor, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth!”

    “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Ghost shrugged.

    ‘Tim’/Cobra turned and started walking again, Ghost and Turtle following him.

    They travelled for some distance and eventually came to a dark cave in the side of a hill. Before the cave lie several bones and scraps of armor and cloth.

    “Behold the cave of Caerbannog!” ‘Tim’/Cobra proclaimed.

    “Right. I’m going in,” Ghost said, stepping forward.

    “Wait, what about the guardian?” Turtle asked.

    “The one ‘Tim’ here was talking about? You’re kidding, right?”

    “Too late!” ‘Tim’/Cobra said suddenly as a small, white rabbit hopped into view among the corpses before the cave.

    “What?” Ghost asked.

    “There he is!” ‘Tim’/Cobra proclaimed.

    “Where?”

    “There!”

    “What, behind the rabbit?” Ghost asked, incredulously.

    “It is the rabbit!”

    “What? You silly sod!”

    “Well, that's no ordinary rabbit. That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on.”

    “Seriously, you’re kidding, right?” Turtle asked.

    “Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide, it's a killer!”

    “Look, there’s only one Rabbit I’m the least bit concerned about, and that mangy bunny over there certainly isn’t her!”

    “I'm warning you!”

    “What's he do, nibble your bum?” Turtle snickered.

    “He's got huge, sharp…he can leap about…look at the bones!”

    Ghost looked askance at ‘Tim’/Cobra. “Right. Okay, fine, I’ll deal with this.” From a finger, Ghost fired a ray of fire at the rabbit, engulfing it in flames. The rabbit squeaked loudly, hopped once, and fell over dead. They watched as flames licked its corpse for a short while.

    “You were saying?” Ghost asked.

    “Well, er… See, in the script, they actually used a hand grenade. I guess that’s sort of similar to a bolt of fire.”

    “Please don’t start that script nonsense again, Cobra.”

    ‘Tim’/Cobra shrugged. “Okay, suit yourself.”

    “So, what now?” Turtle asked.

    “I suppose I’ll go make sure it’s safe. I don’t want any more of them mistaking us for a tasty salad or something.” Ghost stepped through the various bones and made his way towards the cave. He kicked the corpse of the Caerbannog rabbit once as the flames died out. “Looks safe.”

    Just then they heard a multitude of tiny squeaks as numerous tiny, white baby rabbits appeared from the mouth of the cave.

    “Okay…” Ghost started to say.

    The rabbits leapt through the air at Ghost, biting and nibbling at him with razor-sharp incisors, leaving bleeding wounds about his arms, legs, torso, and face.

    “Aaaarrrrgggh! I’m being attacked by a swarm of killer bunnies!” Ghost shouted above the squeals of the baby rabbits.

    “I warned you! But did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same, I always…” ‘Tim’/Cobra shouted.

    “Oh, shut up!”

    “But do they listen to me?”

    “We’ve got to help him!” Turtle said, trying to get past ‘Tim’/Cobra as he held her back.

    “Oh, no…”

    “Aaarrrggh!” Ghost shouted. He hunched over briefly and unleashed a blast of fire all around himself, similar to the blasts of cold he’d used back in the village where he’d met Turtle. Bits of burning rabbit fell to the ground around him. He stood up, covered with tiny bite marks.

    “Right, well, I guess that solves that,” ‘Tim’/Cobra said.

    “Okay, Cobra, no more secrets. I want you to tell me what other surprises are waiting for us in this cave,” Ghost said, angrily.

    ”Look, I don’t want to give away…”

    “Listen, you tell me now. Otherwise, I’ll set you on fire and just watch you burn to death. I’m through playing around for your amusement. Is the Grail even here? What’s in this cave?”

    “Well, look. No, the Grail isn’t here. Inside, we find carvings on the wall; the last words of the prophet Joseph of Aramathea. They say that the Grail can be found in the Castle of Uuggggggh.”

    “The Castle of Uuggggggh?”

    “What is that?” Turtle asked.

    “He, meaning Joseph, must have died while carving it,” ‘Tim’/Cobra replied.

    “Oh, come on!” Turtle said.

    “Look, if he was dying, he wouldn't bother to carve ‘uuggggggh’. He'd just say it!” Ghost said.

    “Well, that's what's carved in the rock!” ‘Tim’/Cobra said defensively.

    “Does it say anything else?” Ghost asked.

    “No. Just, 'uuggggggh'.” ‘Tim’/Cobra answered.

    “Okay, so is there anything else in the cave?”

    “Well, there is the Legendary Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh.”

    They stared at him in silence.

    “What? You see, it gets the last part of its name when it eats Brother Maynard, from his dying shouts.”

    “Uh-huh. And who’s this Brother Maynard?” Ghost asked.

    “Well, since there’s really only the three of us, I suppose that…I…well…um…” ‘Tim’/Cobra trailed off.

    “Right. So, any other bright ideas?” Turtle asked.

    “Well, I suppose we could just skip on to the Bridge of Death?” ‘Tim’/Cobra suggested.

    “And that’s where the Grail’s being kept?”

    “Well, not really. The Grail’s being held in a keep on the other side of the bridge, you see?”

    “Ah. Alright, then. Take us to the bridge.”

    Also, I've re-organized the IStLY archive a bit, to reflect the passage of time between this fic and the previous ones. Nothing major, just shifted the others up a bit, before the Whisper series. The other fics in this series mostly take place over the course of a couple days whereas this one is mostly set several days/weeks later. I figure that, chronologically, the Whisper series and the other recent fics take place during the time period that Ghost and Happyturtle are roaming around at the start of this fic.
    Last edited by ghost_warlock; 2008-12-01 at 03:55 AM.

  4. - Top - End - #664
    Troll in the Playground
     
    RabbitHoleLost's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by ghost_warlock View Post
    “Look, there’s only one Rabbit I’m the least bit concerned about, and that mangy bunny over there certainly isn’t her!”
    ::snicker::

    As always, verreh verreh amusing. And I can see Cobra being oh so difficult, too.
    ::shakes finger at Cobra::

    "This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
    You have too many words in your head.
    There are too many ways to describe the way you feel.
    You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
    You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much"

    — Iain S. Thomas
    Avatar by Qwernt

  5. - Top - End - #665
    Troll in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    Something I thought of and promised weeks ago.

    The Love That You've Looked For
    RabbitHoleLost/Vespe
    Spoiler
    Show

    Familiar bass beats reverberated throughout her body, curling through her fingers, up into her mind, down her spinal cord...to rest uncomfortably in her stomach. It was some horrendous pop song, remixed with electronic sounds, blaring along messages of perfect, pristine love.
    Lies.
    Then again, Rabbit didn't come for the music, or even to dance. Rabbit came for the women. Beautiful, strong women who understood the loveliness of a few curves. Who were gentle, soft, kissable.
    She wasn't sure when she had realized she was attracted to other women...a lesbian, though the word sounded so harsh and almost dirty to her. Perhaps she had always been, always known, and had only been strong enough to come to terms with it those past few months.
    Months of slipping out the backdoor while Vespe slept, muttering strange things in his sleep about purple koala bears and alternate time lines.
    Rabbit hadn't meant to lie to him; she did love him, in some manner. Romantically.
    Silly, to counter her constant serious moodiness, snuggly and cuddly, always pleasant, always willing.
    Perfect in every way.
    But one.
    The one thing that shouldn't have mattered, not at all, seemed to cast everything else as inconsequential. It tore her apart on the inside to come to understand that Vespe as Vespe was would not be enough.
    And so she had begun her nightly escapades to those most dark, mysterious corners of the earth; Lesbian clubs.

    This particular night was no different than the rest; as she entered, several women's attentions diverted to her, and she gave them all a cool smile, her ego sufficiently stroked. She was vain and occasionally shallow, and none of those women by the door struck her as the one.
    None of the women from any of the nights before had, either, for that matter, and she was beginning to quickly lose hope. Maybe it hadn't been that she was attracted to women; maybe she just wasn't attracted to anyone.
    What if there was noone out there for her?
    The thought terrified her, and she drank deeply of her double-tequila-shot Margarita, falling further and further into her despairing doubt.
    And then she saw her.
    She was attractive, but not quite beautiful. No, beautiful wasn't nearly the word. Handsome. The woman approaching Rabbit with small, measured steps was uncommonly and unequally handsome, with dark hair falling straight to her back, a small, quirky smile on her face.
    Rabbit found herself immobilized as the woman sat down next to her, and opened her pink lips to speak.
    "You know, these skirts are incredibly uncomfortable. I'm not sure how you wear them."
    "Vespe?!" It was unmistakable, now that the woman was so close, small pointed ears exposed. The same eyes...Oh, Rabbit was in trouble now.
    "Shhhh!" The bard-ess hissed, looking about at the women watching them carefully. The other patrons of the club/bar had noticed Rabbit come and go alone everynight, with not more than a few words spared to any of them. That this relative stranger seemed to catch Rabbit's attention was curious, and Vespe was not keen on a horde of jealous lesbians discovering his actual gender and tossing him out.
    "But..how...I.." He..or she, rather, shushed her by digging around in her small bag, withdrawing a matchbook with the clubs name on it.
    "You thought I really spoke about purple koala bears in my sleep? I knew you were going out everynight." Vespe's smile disarmed Rabbit. He wasn't angry, or even upset.
    Of course, this is Vespe... Rabbit was the one to pitch a fit and scream and whine. Vespe would deal with things with laughter and smiles, until she joined him in joyous giggling.
    It was the way it had always been done.
    "I can stay like this, if you want. I feel kinda pretty." And suddenly, Rabbit was crying, throwing her arms around her companion, burying her tear-stained face into the long, clean hair.
    It was true, Rabbit cried often. But the words she blubbered inbetween her cries and sobs were what differentiated the occasion.
    "Vespe, I love you, Vespe. No matter what, no matter which way."
    Softly, Vespe patted her hair, chuckling.
    "This is like that Pina Colada song." Rabbit grinned up at Vespe, singing in a rather off-tune voice.
    "I never knew
    That you like Pina Coladas
    Getting caught in the rain
    And the feel of the ocean
    And the taste of champagne
    If you'd like making love at midnight
    In the dunes of the Cape
    "

    "Then I'm the love that you've looked for
    Write to me and escape.."

    Rabbit paused, frowning, before she broke into an unrestrained laughter.
    "Those were totally the wrong lyrics."
    And as they left, arm in arm, Vespe shrugged.
    "Artistic license."
    This fic rocks with its socks off. You have a way of making just about any romantic situation somehow tender and organic. I really admire that about your writing. I always feel like I'm forcing things in my own fics, when I try to write something romantic.

    Also, I really like that song, even though I can't really imagine a way it'd relate to my life.

    And, finally, you've managed to make 'lesbian' clubs almost sinister? Previously, I think the Disney Store seemed more threatening to me. Of course, now that I'm actually considering the Disney Store...I'm kinda getting the creeps. Thousands upon thousands of Mickey, Goofy, Pooh, and Kanga dolls; all of them staring blankly ahead, a sinister taste for brains on their soft, plush lips. I imagine them waiting, patiently, in the dressing room for the child who's lost his momma. Hungrily, they pounce...
    Last edited by ghost_warlock; 2008-12-01 at 04:33 AM.

  6. - Top - End - #666
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    CurlyKitGirl's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    @RHL: wow; that's really sweet of Vespe.
    @g_w: funny as always. And as you've noticed, the IStLY archive is your post so what you say goes.
    @Maggy: hilarious.

    This'll be a hard one:

    Definition drabbles

    Mordokai/Mi'ir (Cristo)/RJL:
    Alienist - psychiatrist
    Spoiler
    Show

    “Why are we here? And no more Austrian accents!”
    “Meanie.” Pouted the infamous ‘Dr.’ RHL. They were in an office, here for Sune knew not what. Mi’ir was definitely nervous, bet he did this. “Don’t worry Mi’ir, I won’t let the nasty paladin hurt you,” she said as she glomped the bard. “But Mordokai is so cute too; I want you both. Oooh, can you – “
    They bolted.
    “No, Mi’ir, Mordokai, come back. You can even try on the belt!”
    “She needs to see a shrink. By Sune, what were you thinking?”
    “We were having relationship problems!”
    “ . . .”


    Oh, but that was fun to do. And you can consider it a sort of prequel to A Different Temptation: (Warning: this fic may induce fangirlism tendencies) if you so wish.
    Last edited by CurlyKitGirl; 2009-01-01 at 01:31 PM.

    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by V'icternus View Post
    Why is it that you now scare me more than the possibility of nuclear war?
    Quote Originally Posted by Dr. Bath View Post
    To compare [Curly] to the beauty of the changing seasons or timeless stars would be an understatement.
    Quote Originally Posted by Coidzor View Post
    But Koorly is the sweetest crime.

    Squid bones are lies.
    Bathatar!

  7. - Top - End - #667
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    Mordokai's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Oh dear lord...
    Adrie, half elven bard. Drawing by Vulion, avatar by CheesePirate. Colored version by Callos_DeTerran. Thanks a lot, you guys.
    This place is not a place of honor…no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… nothing valued is here.
    "There will come a day so dark you will pray for death. On that day your prayers will be answered."
    Book of shadows, book of night, wake the beast and banish light.

  8. - Top - End - #668
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    @g_w: funny as always. And as you've noticed, the IStLY archive is your post so what you say goes.
    Yeah, I maintain the archive, but I make no claim to infallibility. I'm just shuffling things around in a way that makes sense to me. If anyone feels that things should be arranged differently, or whatnot, I hope they'll let me know.

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Definition drabbles

    Mordokai/Mi'ir (Cristo)/RJL:
    Alienist - psychiatrist
    Spoiler
    Show

    “Why are we here? And no more Austrian accents!”
    “Meanie.” Pouted the infamous ‘Dr.’ RHL. They were in an office, here for Sune knew not what. Mi’ir was definitely nervous, bet he did this. “Don’t worry Mi’ir, I won’t let the nasty paladin hurt you,” she said as she glomped the bard. “But Mordokai is so cute too; I want you both. Oooh, can you – “
    They bolted.
    “No, Mi’ir, Mordokai, come back. You can even try on the belt!”
    “She needs to see a shrink. By Sune, what were you thinking?”
    “We were having relationship problems!”
    “ . . .”


    Oh, but that was fun to do. And you can consider it a sort of prequel to A Different Temptation: (Warning: this fic may induce fangirlism tendencies) if you so wish.
    I enjoyed this a lot. Not that this should be a revelation.

    Poor Rabbit, those two mean boys are always running away.

  9. - Top - End - #669
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    CurlyKitGirl's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by ghost_warlock View Post
    Yeah, I maintain the archive, but I make no claim to infallibility. I'm just shuffling things around in a way that makes sense to me. If anyone feels that things should be arranged differently, or whatnot, I hope they'll let me know.
    Well, they know where to state the time the fic takes place overall.

    Quote Originally Posted by ghost_warlock View Post
    I enjoyed this a lot. Not that this should be a revelation.

    Poor Rabbit, those two mean boys are always running away.
    Cool. I had fun writing this too. D'you RHL'll bleed to death from the prolly - soon - to - be - coming fangirly nosebleed?
    I'm also thinking of doing a Queenfic to Lover Boy. Any volunteers/suggestions?

    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by V'icternus View Post
    Why is it that you now scare me more than the possibility of nuclear war?
    Quote Originally Posted by Dr. Bath View Post
    To compare [Curly] to the beauty of the changing seasons or timeless stars would be an understatement.
    Quote Originally Posted by Coidzor View Post
    But Koorly is the sweetest crime.

    Squid bones are lies.
    Bathatar!

  10. - Top - End - #670
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    Dallas-Dakota's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Curly, when it's you writing, I know I'l always volunteer, cause I always love the result.
    Yes, sign me up
    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    DD: .... DEM HIPS.
    Quote Originally Posted by faerwain View Post
    Why do I have the feeling that you actually really grind Smurfs to make your ice cream?
    Quote Originally Posted by banjo1985 View Post
    My wedding underwear has a picture of Dallas Dakota's face on them.
    Ceikatar!

  11. - Top - End - #671
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    ::snicker::

    As always, verreh verreh amusing. And I can see Cobra being oh so difficult, too.
    ::shakes finger at Cobra::
    *pouts*

    ...but...but...the script! D=
    Cobra Avatar by the lovely Miss Nobody.

  12. - Top - End - #672
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    @RHL: I can't help but think that I'm the reason you threw in the Pina Colada song at the end... I'm glad you finally wrote this fic!

    @GW: I still think you are able to perfectly capture the humor in this classic tale. Each installment is a true joy to read.

    On a note to everyone, today I'm sick and staying home from work.

    But, on the plus side, I should now have the time to get some posting/updating done. I haven' really done anything over the last four days, but I'm back...baby...

  13. - Top - End - #673
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Definition drabbles

    Mordokai/Mi'ir (Cristo)/RJL:
    Alienist - psychiatrist
    Spoiler
    Show

    “Why are we here? And no more Austrian accents!”
    “Meanie.” Pouted the infamous ‘Dr.’ RHL. They were in an office, here for Sune knew not what. Mi’ir was definitely nervous, bet he did this. “Don’t worry Mi’ir, I won’t let the nasty paladin hurt you,” she said as she glomped the bard. “But Mordokai is so cute too; I want you both. Oooh, can you – “
    They bolted.
    “No, Mi’ir, Mordokai, come back. You can even try on the belt!”
    “She needs to see a shrink. By Sune, what were you thinking?”
    “We were having relationship problems!”
    “ . . .”
    My new favourite ...I am sooo tempted to take this and run with it...

    ...no, must not...

    ...rrrrr...

    dammit...

    Spoiler
    Show
    don't say I didn't warn you
    Spoiler
    Show
    you're gonna regret it...
    Spoiler
    Show
    last chance...
    Spoiler
    Show
    RHL you may want a hankerchief...
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by Mordokai
    Oh dear lord...
    What did you expect? You haven't smote me in weeks!


    I feel so dirty...

  14. - Top - End - #674
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    You feel dirty? Come closer, I'll clean you up!

    ...

    That... sounded a lot less weird in my head...

    I'm not sure "weird" evin beggins to describe it...
    Adrie, half elven bard. Drawing by Vulion, avatar by CheesePirate. Colored version by Callos_DeTerran. Thanks a lot, you guys.
    This place is not a place of honor…no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… nothing valued is here.
    "There will come a day so dark you will pray for death. On that day your prayers will be answered."
    Book of shadows, book of night, wake the beast and banish light.

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Spoiler
    Show

    Come closer, I'l clean you up.
    Hmm, finally, thought you'd never realize.
    Let's get somewhere more...private
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    DD: .... DEM HIPS.
    Quote Originally Posted by faerwain View Post
    Why do I have the feeling that you actually really grind Smurfs to make your ice cream?
    Quote Originally Posted by banjo1985 View Post
    My wedding underwear has a picture of Dallas Dakota's face on them.
    Ceikatar!

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by dallas-dakota View Post
    Spoiler
    Show

    Come closer, I'l clean you up.
    Hmm, finally, thought you'd never realize.
    Let's get somewhere more...private
    J'aurais toujours faim de toi.
    This avatar by Phase.

  17. - Top - End - #677
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    @RHL: wow; that's really sweet of Vespe.
    Yeah, too sweet.
    In my defense, I ran this by him and got his permission first.

    Definition drabbles

    Mordokai/Mi'ir (Cristo)/RJL:
    Alienist - psychiatrist
    Spoiler
    Show

    “Why are we here? And no more Austrian accents!”
    “Meanie.” Pouted the infamous ‘Dr.’ RHL. They were in an office, here for Sune knew not what. Mi’ir was definitely nervous, bet he did this. “Don’t worry Mi’ir, I won’t let the nasty paladin hurt you,” she said as she glomped the bard. “But Mordokai is so cute too; I want you both. Oooh, can you – “
    They bolted.
    “No, Mi’ir, Mordokai, come back. You can even try on the belt!”
    “She needs to see a shrink. By Sune, what were you thinking?”
    “We were having relationship problems!”
    “ . . .”


    Oh, but that was fun to do. And you can consider it a sort of prequel to A Different Temptation: (Warning: this fic may induce fangirlism tendencies) if you so wish.
    ::giggles::
    Ahhhh, I love it.

    "This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
    You have too many words in your head.
    There are too many ways to describe the way you feel.
    You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
    You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much"

    — Iain S. Thomas
    Avatar by Qwernt

  18. - Top - End - #678
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    What started off as a writing experiment eventually turned into another long-project shipfic. What started as a single shipping scene within that experiment turned into what appears to be a prologue. Again, its more my typical fare and not "proper" shipping akin to the marvelous Curly's work.

    *sighs*

    Here is my latest new project, of the Diesel-Punk genre. I meld Magic and Modernity into something that I call...

    Bolt-Action Spell-Casting

    Starring: Ghost_Warlock and Dirk.Kris (Mordokai mentioned)

    Prologue:

    Spoiler
    Show



    “Dirk Kris! Are the preparations complete?” a wheezy voice that razed the air like gravel said. Thin, long fingers tapped on a cane impatiently.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, I am most distressed to report, that the Teydar are hardly ready to engage the enemy. They still treat their weapons like savages, not soldiers,” Dirk Kris said, his voice quavering.

    Dirk Kris cast a nervous sidelong glance at a group of Teydar, Ghost Warlock followed his gaze. Most of them were sitting around fires placed sporadically around the camp, eating their daily rations. Others were drilling. Some were practicing their firing, some were simply marching. The only thing they seemed to have perfected was the use of the bayonet.

    “Are you suggesting that we delay the planned assault?” Ghost Warlock said, speaking slowly and coldly, his rough voice filled with malice. He glared at Dirk Kris.

    “Y…yes sir, they don’t march properly, they can’t shoot straight, and their discipline is absolutely atrocious, they are not soldiers yet. With only a little more time…” Dirk Kris said, but Ghost Warlock paid little attention to him.

    Ghost Warlock looked around the encampment. He could see Teydar playing with their rifles like children playing with new toys. Some were foolishly staring down the barrels after they finished loading the weapons. More than one had accidentally shot himself doing that. He saw a few of the warriors firing off rounds into the air at random, exalting at the thunderous report that the rifles had. Ghost Warlock felt little more than disgust towards their lack of discipline.

    Two Teydar nearby suddenly became embroiled in a fight over a leg of meat. One of the combatants pulled out his rifle and promptly shot the other, instantly killing him. Their Elven officers were fuming and screaming at them while the savages exulted the victor. Ghost Warlock immediately stood and yelled at their Elven superior, demanding that the offending Teydar be executed immediately for treason.

    He watched in satisfaction as the officer pulled out his sidearm and fired a round into the Teydar’s head. The other soldiers stood silently and quickly reformed back into line.

    Regardless of how undisciplined they are, I cannot let this opportunity escape from my grasp, Ghost Warlock thought to himself.

    Ghost Warlock stroked his long fingers over his gaunt, pointed chin. He frowned and pursed his lips. He gripped his cane firmly and lifted himself out of his chair, wheezing heavily. He was tall, even for an Aldasr high elf, and his gnarled skin revealed his great age, his head had long grown bald, a side-effect of his poisoning during the Great War. Despite this his eyes still burned with a youthly vigor, a vigor that bore a sinister purpose. He stared down at Dirk Kris coldly. His keen sixth-sense could smell the sweetly nauseating smell of fear burning inside Dirk Kris’s heart. Ghost Warlock relished it, being feared always served to make him feel all the more powerful. It almost made him forget his physical weaknesses.

    Ghost Warlock began a coughing fit, the same as all the countless others before, with each heave of his chest making him seem more and more likely to burst. His eyes bulged as he leaned heavily on his cane, supporting himself, trying to keep from toppling over entirely. Eventually his breathing shakily stabilized, with only his ever-present wheeze remaining. He returned his attention to Dirk Kris.

    “It has been almost three decades that I have lived like this. And now, when my revenge on Mordokai is nigh, you dare to suggest to me that we are not ready?!” Ghost Warlock screamed at Dirk Kris. The vocal exertion took its toll on Ghost Warlock, and his chest heaved with another long series of deep coughs.

    “Sir, you know that if you can take any actions with soldiers as poorly trained as these, you will be doomed to fail. At least train them enough to listen to their Elven commanders, teach them to respect a superior race. I predict it will take only another month, and then they will be ready,” Dirk Kris said, each word being squeezed out by a great feat of willpower.

    Ghost Warlock felt himself calming down as his coughing tantrum was subdued. “The Humans took my glory away from me, and they almost had my life. But Laramothar the Pilgrim be praised, I survived,” Ghost Warlock said, his eyes staring through Dirk Kris, lost in memory. “No Dirk Kris… I can’t let him live for another month, he has already lived for far too long and after all the trouble I endured to get to where I am today...” He trailed off and his hands clenched into fists, and a mystical fire surrounded them, crackling and popping in the air around them and betraying Ghost Warlock’s capabilities as a spellcaster. Some Teydar who were nearby performing marching drills flinched away in fear and awe. Their Elven superior began screaming at them, trying to get them back in line.

    Dirk Kris flinched from the heat of the mystic fire. Ghost Warlock looked down at him and grinned widely. Then suddenly he began to laugh as the fire blazed brighter and hotter. Dirk Kris, after a few moments to collect his nerves, began to speak.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, to the matter at hand… what are your orders?” Dirk Kris said, flinching back, feeling the heat emanating from the powerful elf’s hands.

    Hearing Dirk Kris’s voice seemed to bring Ghost Warlock back to his senses and the fire faded from his hands. He looked out across the camp of Teydar warriors. No… not warriors, he was turning them into soldiers, his Teydar soldiers. His army, that is what it was, his return to the command of an army. Ghost Warlock smiled again.

    “There is no more time to lose… assemble the Teydar, column formation, our objective is still a few miles away yet. Their foolish sentries will mistake our frontline as a simple Teydar raid. The Human settlers will expect spears and javelins, but will soon be staring down the barrels of Elven rifles. Like the way it was, years ago. That surprise in and of itself will be enough to win us victory,” Ghost Warlock said, breathing deeply, a most difficult task. “And I really do not care how many Teydar die, there are plenty more for us to conscript. Do I make myself clear, Dirk Kris?”

    “Yes sir!” Dirk Kris said, saluting. Ghost Warlock could see the relief on his face. He watched as Dirk Kris performed a sharp about-face, and strolled towards the army’s musicians. Soon drums began beating and horns rattling. The Teydar either dropped their meals entirely or shoved the rest down their gullets as they began to form marching ranks. Teydar sergeants and Elven captains barked out orders. Rifle bayonets were fixed and the metal gleamed in the sunlight.

    Ghost Warlock stood silent for a moment, watching his soldiers clumsily assemble. He didn’t care how crude they were. The scene still served to remind him of his days of glory and Ghost Warlock could feel a tear welling in his eyes, threatening to roll down his hardened and cracked face. Then he shrugged and called for his driver. An automobile pulled alongside him. The uniformed elf in the driver seat got out and ran to the passenger side, opening the door and saluting. Ghost Warlock nodded to the driver in approval and stepped inside the vehicle.

    He glanced down at his watch, 0700 sharp. He looked out of the window to watch his soldiers begin to march east, towards what is now Human territory. Towards that accursed little rat nest that the Humans called a village.

    “Now Mordokai… I shall see how these unkind years have treated you,” Ghost Warlock murmured under his breath He signaled to the driver and the vehicle drove off, heading for the front of the Teydar column.

    Last edited by TwoBitWriter; 2008-12-04 at 10:11 AM.

  19. - Top - End - #679
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by TwoBitWriter View Post
    What started off as a writing experiment eventually turned into another long-project shipfic. What started as a single shipping scene within that experiment turned into what appears to be a prologue. Again, its more my typical fare and not "proper" shipping akin to the marvelous Curly's work.

    *sighs*

    Here is my latest new project, of the Diesel-Punk genre. I meld Magic and Modernity into something that I call...

    Bolt-Action Spell-Casting

    Starring: Ghost_Warlock and Dirk.Kris (Mordokai mentioned)

    Prologue:

    Spoiler
    Show



    “Dirk Kris! Are the preparations complete?” a wheezy voice that razed the air like gravel said. Thin, long fingers tapped on a cane impatiently.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, I am most distressed to report, that the Teydar are hardly ready to engage the enemy. They still treat their weapons like savages, not soldiers,” Dirk Kris said, his voice quavering.

    Dirk Kris cast a nervous sidelong glance at a group of Teydar, Ghost Warlock followed his gaze. Most of them were sitting around fires placed sporadically around the camp, eating their daily rations. Others were drilling. Some were practicing their firing, some were simply marching. The only thing they seemed to have perfected was the use of the bayonet.

    “Are you suggesting that we delay the planned assault?” Ghost Warlock said, speaking slowly and coldly, his rough voice filled with malice. He glared at Dirk Kris.

    “Y…yes sir, they don’t march properly, they can’t shoot straight, and their discipline is absolutely atrocious, they are not soldiers yet. With only a little more time…” Dirk Kris said, but Ghost Warlock paid little attention to him.

    Ghost Warlock looked around the encampment. He could see Teydar playing with their rifles like children playing with new toys. Some were foolishly staring down the barrels after they finished loading the weapons. More than one had accidentally shot himself doing that. He saw a few of the warriors firing off rounds into the air at random, exalting at the thunderous report that the rifles had. Ghost Warlock felt little more than disgust towards their lack of discipline.

    Two Teydar nearby suddenly became embroiled in a fight over a leg of meat. One of the combatants pulled out his rifle and promptly shot the other, instantly killing him. Their Elven officers were fuming and screaming at them while the savages exulted the victor. Ghost Warlock immediately stood and yelled at their Elven superior, demanding that the offending Teydar be executed immediately for treason.

    He watched in satisfaction as the officer pulled out his sidearm and fired a round into the Teydar’s head. The other soldiers stood silently and quickly reformed back into line.

    Regardless of how undisciplined they are, I cannot let this opportunity escape from my grasp, Ghost Warlock thought to himself.

    Ghost Warlock stroked his long fingers over his gaunt, pointed chin. He frowned and pursed his lips. He gripped his cane firmly and lifted himself out of his chair, wheezing heavily. He was tall, even for an Aldasr high elf, and his gnarled skin revealed his great age, his head had long grown bald, a side-effect of his poisoning during the Great War. Despite this his eyes still burned with a youthly vigor, a vigor that bore a sinister purpose. He stared down at Dirk Kris coldly. His keen sixth-sense could smell the sweetly nauseating smell of fear burning inside Dirk Kris’s heart. Ghost Warlock relished it, being feared always served to make him feel all the more powerful. It almost made him forget his physical weaknesses.

    Ghost Warlock began a coughing fit, the same as all the countless others before, with each heave of his chest making him seem more and more likely to burst. His eyes bulged as he leaned heavily on his cane, supporting himself, trying to keep from toppling over entirely. Eventually his breathing shakily stabilized, with only his ever-present wheeze remaining. He returned his attention to Dirk Kris.

    “It has been almost three decades that I have lived like this. And now, when my revenge on Mordokai is nigh, you dare to suggest to me that we are not ready?!” Ghost Warlock screamed at Dirk Kris. The vocal exertion took its toll on Ghost Warlock, and his chest heaved with another long series of deep coughs.

    “Sir, you know that if you can take any actions with soldiers as poorly trained as these, you will be doomed to fail. At least train them enough to listen to their Elven commanders, teach them to respect a superior race. I predict it will take only another month, and then they will be ready,” Dirk Kris said, each word being squeezed out by a great feat of willpower.

    Ghost Warlock felt himself calming down as his coughing tantrum was subdued. “The Humans took my glory away from me, and they almost had my life. But Laramothar the Pilgrim be praised, I survived,” Ghost Warlock said, his eyes staring through Dirk Kris, lost in memory. “No Dirk Kris… I can’t let him live for another month, he has already lived for far too long and after all the trouble I endured to get to where I am today...” He trailed off and his hands clenched into fists, and a mystical fire surrounded them, crackling and popping in the air around them and betraying Ghost Warlock’s capabilities as a spellcaster. Some Teydar who were nearby performing marching drills flinched away in fear and awe. Their Elven superior began screaming at them, trying to get them back in line.

    Dirk Kris flinched from the heat of the mystic fire. Ghost Warlock looked down at him and grinned widely. Then suddenly he began to laugh as the fire blazed brighter and hotter. Dirk Kris, after a few moments to collect his nerves, began to speak.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, to the matter at hand… what are your orders?” Dirk Kris said, flinching back, feeling the heat emanating from the powerful elf’s hands.

    Hearing Dirk Kris’s voice seemed to bring Ghost Warlock back to his senses and the fire faded from his hands. He looked out across the camp of Teydar warriors. No… not warriors, he was turning them into soldiers, his Teydar soldiers. His army, that is what it was, his return to the command of an army. Ghost Warlock smiled again.

    “There is no more time to lose… assemble the Teydar, column formation, our objective is still a few miles away yet. Their foolish sentries will mistake our frontline as a simple Teydar raid. The Human settlers will expect spears and javelins, but will soon be staring down the barrels of Elven rifles. Like the way it was, years ago. That surprise in and of itself will be enough to win us victory,” Ghost Warlock said, breathing deeply, a most difficult task. “And I really do not care how many Teydar die, there are plenty more for us to conscript. Do I make myself clear, Dirk Kris?”

    “Yes sir!” Dirk Kris said, saluting. Ghost Warlock could see the relief on his face. He watched as Dirk Kris performed a sharp about-face, and strolled towards the army’s musicians. Soon drums began beating and horns rattling. The Teydar either dropped their meals entirely or shoved the rest down their gullets as they began to form marching ranks. Teydar sergeants and Elven captains barked out orders. Rifle bayonets were fixed and the metal gleamed in the sunlight.

    Ghost Warlock stood silent for a moment, watching his soldiers clumsily assemble. He didn’t care how crude they were. The scene still served to remind him of his days of glory and Ghost Warlock could feel a tear welling in his eyes, threatening to roll down his hardened and cracked face. Then he shrugged and called for his driver. An automobile pulled alongside him. The uniformed elf in the driver seat got out and ran to the passenger side, opening the door and saluting. Ghost Warlock nodded to the driver in approval and stepped inside the vehicle.

    He glanced down at his watch, 0700 sharp. He looked out of the window to watch his soldiers begin to march east, towards what is now Human territory. Towards that accursed little rat nest that the Humans called a village.

    “Now Mordokai… I shall see how these unkind years have treated you,” Ghost Warlock murmured under his breath He signaled to the driver and the vehicle drove off, heading for the front of the Teydar column.

    Oooo, Spiffy.
    Evil Ghost is most awesome, and combined with Dirk makes a super awesome sexy evil team
    Mordy better watch out

    "This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
    You have too many words in your head.
    There are too many ways to describe the way you feel.
    You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
    You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much"

    — Iain S. Thomas
    Avatar by Qwernt

  20. - Top - End - #680
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    Oooo, Spiffy.
    Evil Ghost is most awesome, and combined with Dirk makes a super awesome sexy evil team
    Mordy better watch out
    How about someone doing one of Mordokai and Cristo "smiting" them?

  21. - Top - End - #681
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by Wolfbane View Post
    How about someone doing one of Mordokai and Cristo "smiting" them?
    *whacks on the nose with a rolled up newspaper*

    Bad wolf! Bad!

    I must be in this one TBW...

    *waves hand*

    Mi'ir will make an appearance...

    or not...but still...

  22. - Top - End - #682
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Of course. Mordy and Mi'ir must be secret lovers..
    Secret lufers, yeeh, thet’s vhet ve-a ere-a
    Ve-a shuoold nut be-a tugezeer
    Boot ve-a cun’t let gu, nu, nu
    ‘Coose-a ve-a lufe-a iech oozeer su


    ...I totally clicked Bork Copy and paste on accident. But its more amusing that way >>

    "This is why it hurts the way it hurts.
    You have too many words in your head.
    There are too many ways to describe the way you feel.
    You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.
    You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much"

    — Iain S. Thomas
    Avatar by Qwernt

  23. - Top - End - #683
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by Cristo Meyers View Post
    *whacks on the nose with a rolled up newspaper*

    Bad wolf! Bad!

    I must be in this one TBW...

    *waves hand*

    Mi'ir will make an appearance...

    or not...but still...
    I think I can have Cristo and Mi'ir make appearances, as different characters.

  24. - Top - End - #684
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by TwoBitWriter View Post
    I think I can have Cristo and Mi'ir make appearances, as different characters.
    Any time I have seen this happen, we've tried to kill each other...

    ...and remember, we share a body...

    wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the year was nineteen-dickety-two. We had to say dickety, because the Kaiser stole our word "twenty"...*rambles on...and on...and zzzzzzzzzz*

  25. - Top - End - #685
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Previously:
    Falling Part One - Game Start
    Falling Part Two - The Players Meet

    Curly/Mordokai/The Dryad/Mi'ir (Cristo)
    Falling Part Three - Love Quadrangles?
    Spoiler
    Show

    She rested in sweet little Mordokais' arms all the way back to safety. The little nature lover insisted that the tree they were sleeping under was 'friendly'. How can a tree be friendly? Now malacious and evil she could understand. She'd been drunk waaay back when and had been a little too involved in 'Truth' or Dare.
    Not that a demon would ever volutnarily tell the truth so it was dare after dare. Smirking into the broad shoulders of her gallant saviour she remembered with glee that she'd one that little game with the trees.
    Over ten thousand dead so far.
    No one ever suspects the trees . . .
    "Oh, I never introduced myself. I'm Flora." chirps the overly perky little dryad. What's she got to be so happy about? Doesn't she know that - oh wait. She doesn't!
    Oh, it's entertaining being evil.
    "My Lady Curly, I must leave your company for I have a meeting with an informant. Of sorts. I shall return but shortly." She smiled winsomely and practically gushed "Oh, I trust you good sir Knight. I know you'll be back soon." By Bahamut, this dizty airhead facade would be over soon. Hopefully, the'd put it down to shock. No way in Pandaemonium she could keep this up. After the gullible one had left she turned to the little tree girl.
    "Flora?"
    "Yes?"
    "Flowers."
    "What?"
    "Flora is the patron deity of flowers. You're a dryad. Of the trees."
    "Ah. Um. Mordokai doesn't know this, but I'm only training to be one. We can get upgraded you know!" she added defensively. Then she went on to say, "And besides, Flora can be seen as the goddess of all nature too."
    "You're exaggerating the truth to a paladin of Sune?! But I'll keep your secret. I can tell you like him." After all, now I can blackmail you or ruin your standing in his eyes forever. Although that little minx did seem to have dryad powers which was rather vexing actually.
    A good few hours passed in rather interesting gossip and before Curly knew it Mordokai had come back.
    With a bard.
    A thrice a -cursed; intuitive bard!
    Then again . . . it seems that the bard and Mordokai had a history of some sort. Why hadn't Flora said anything of them? Curly, acting her part as the victim of vicious demonic attack rose timidly and curtseyed to them. "Sir Mordokai, welcome back. Is it too much for me to inquire as to whom your companion is?"
    "Fair Lady Curly, my name is Mi'ir. Bard extraordinaire and long time - "
    "We've known each other for a long time. He is one of my closest, though annoying, friends." Huh. Mi'irs' face fell a bit. Maybe they were - oh no. Is that paladin really all that popular?
    Well, all the more fun in making people Fall.
    But by Sekhmet the Ravenger, Mordokai was naive. Then again, he did cut in upon the . . . now babbling bard, so maybe they're covering something up.
    Oh. What a cute bard. Nice long hair, his voice sounded melodious enough; even if he was talking about kittens.
    And he had glorious legs.
    So, on the one hand: Mr. Dashing In Armour. And on the other: The Lovable Musician. And then the little 'dryad'.
    Maybe they'd let her keep the bodies?
    Last edited by CurlyKitGirl; 2008-12-01 at 04:05 PM. Reason: Typo

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by V'icternus View Post
    Why is it that you now scare me more than the possibility of nuclear war?
    Quote Originally Posted by Dr. Bath View Post
    To compare [Curly] to the beauty of the changing seasons or timeless stars would be an understatement.
    Quote Originally Posted by Coidzor View Post
    But Koorly is the sweetest crime.

    Squid bones are lies.
    Bathatar!

  26. - Top - End - #686
    Troll in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by TwoBitWriter View Post
    What started off as a writing experiment eventually turned into another long-project shipfic. What started as a single shipping scene within that experiment turned into what appears to be a prologue. Again, its more my typical fare and not "proper" shipping akin to the marvelous Curly's work.

    *sighs*

    Here is my latest new project, of the Diesel-Punk genre. I meld Magic and Modernity into something that I call...

    Bolt-Action Spell-Casting

    Starring: Ghost_Warlock and Dirk.Kris (Mordokai mentioned)

    Prologue:

    Spoiler
    Show



    “Dirk Kris! Are the preparations complete?” a wheezy voice that razed the air like gravel said. Thin, long fingers tapped on a cane impatiently.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, I am most distressed to report, that the Teydar are hardly ready to engage the enemy. They still treat their weapons like savages, not soldiers,” Dirk Kris said, his voice quavering.

    Dirk Kris cast a nervous sidelong glance at a group of Teydar, Ghost Warlock followed his gaze. Most of them were sitting around fires placed sporadically around the camp, eating their daily rations. Others were drilling. Some were practicing their firing, some were simply marching. The only thing they seemed to have perfected was the use of the bayonet.

    “Are you suggesting that we delay the planned assault?” Ghost Warlock said, speaking slowly and coldly, his rough voice filled with malice. He glared at Dirk Kris.

    “Y…yes sir, they don’t march properly, they can’t shoot straight, and their discipline is absolutely atrocious, they are not soldiers yet. With only a little more time…” Dirk Kris said, but Ghost Warlock paid little attention to him.

    Ghost Warlock looked around the encampment. He could see Teydar playing with their rifles like children playing with new toys. Some were foolishly staring down the barrels after they finished loading the weapons. More than one had accidentally shot himself doing that. He saw a few of the warriors firing off rounds into the air at random, exalting at the thunderous report that the rifles had. Ghost Warlock felt little more than disgust towards their lack of discipline.

    Two Teydar nearby suddenly became embroiled in a fight over a leg of meat. One of the combatants pulled out his rifle and promptly shot the other, instantly killing him. Their Elven officers were fuming and screaming at them while the savages exulted the victor. Ghost Warlock immediately stood and yelled at their Elven superior, demanding that the offending Teydar be executed immediately for treason.

    He watched in satisfaction as the officer pulled out his sidearm and fired a round into the Teydar’s head. The other soldiers stood silently and quickly reformed back into line.

    Regardless of how undisciplined they are, I cannot let this opportunity escape from my grasp, Ghost Warlock thought to himself.

    Ghost Warlock stroked his long fingers over his gaunt, pointed chin. He frowned and pursed his lips. He gripped his cane firmly and lifted himself out of his chair, wheezing heavily. He was tall, even for an Aldasr high elf, and his gnarled skin revealed his great age, his head had long grown bald, a side-effect of his poisoning during the Great War. Despite this his eyes still burned with a youthly vigor, a vigor that bore a sinister purpose. He stared down at Dirk Kris coldly. His keen sixth-sense could smell the sweetly nauseating smell of fear burning inside Dirk Kris’s heart. Ghost Warlock relished it, being feared always served to make him feel all the more powerful. It almost made him forget his physical weaknesses.

    Ghost Warlock began a coughing fit, the same as all the countless others before, with each heave of his chest making him seem more and more likely to burst. His eyes bulged as he leaned heavily on his cane, supporting himself, trying to keep from toppling over entirely. Eventually his breathing shakily stabilized, with only his ever-present wheeze remaining. He returned his attention to Dirk Kris.

    “It has been almost three decades that I have lived like this. And now, when my revenge on Mordokai is nigh, you dare to suggest to me that we are not ready?!” Ghost Warlock screamed at Dirk Kris. The vocal exertion took its toll on Ghost Warlock, and his chest heaved with another long series of deep coughs.

    “Sir, you know that if you can take any actions with soldiers as poorly trained as these, you will be doomed to fail. At least train them enough to listen to their Elven commanders, teach them to respect a superior race. I predict it will take only another month, and then they will be ready,” Dirk Kris said, each word being squeezed out by a great feat of willpower.

    Ghost Warlock felt himself calming down as his coughing tantrum was subdued. “The Humans took my glory away from me, and they almost had my life. But Laramothar the Pilgrim be praised, I survived,” Ghost Warlock said, his eyes staring through Dirk Kris, lost in memory. “No Dirk Kris… I can’t let him live for another month, he has already lived for far too long and after all the trouble I endured to get to where I am today...” He trailed off and his hands clenched into fists, and a mystical fire surrounded them, crackling and popping in the air around them and betraying Ghost Warlock’s capabilities as a spellcaster. Some Teydar who were nearby performing marching drills flinched away in fear and awe. Their Elven superior began screaming at them, trying to get them back in line.

    Dirk Kris flinched from the heat of the mystic fire. Ghost Warlock looked down at him and grinned widely. Then suddenly he began to laugh as the fire blazed brighter and hotter. Dirk Kris, after a few moments to collect his nerves, began to speak.

    “Lord Ghost Warlock, to the matter at hand… what are your orders?” Dirk Kris said, flinching back, feeling the heat emanating from the powerful elf’s hands.

    Hearing Dirk Kris’s voice seemed to bring Ghost Warlock back to his senses and the fire faded from his hands. He looked out across the camp of Teydar warriors. No… not warriors, he was turning them into soldiers, his Teydar soldiers. His army, that is what it was, his return to the command of an army. Ghost Warlock smiled again.

    “There is no more time to lose… assemble the Teydar, column formation, our objective is still a few miles away yet. Their foolish sentries will mistake our frontline as a simple Teydar raid. The Human settlers will expect spears and javelins, but will soon be staring down the barrels of Elven rifles. Like the way it was, years ago. That surprise in and of itself will be enough to win us victory,” Ghost Warlock said, breathing deeply, a most difficult task. “And I really do not care how many Teydar die, there are plenty more for us to conscript. Do I make myself clear, Dirk Kris?”

    “Yes sir!” Dirk Kris said, saluting. Ghost Warlock could see the relief on his face. He watched as Dirk Kris performed a sharp about-face, and strolled towards the army’s musicians. Soon drums began beating and horns rattling. The Teydar either dropped their meals entirely or shoved the rest down their gullets as they began to form marching ranks. Teydar sergeants and Elven captains barked out orders. Rifle bayonets were fixed and the metal gleamed in the sunlight.

    Ghost Warlock stood silent for a moment, watching his soldiers clumsily assemble. He didn’t care how crude they were. The scene still served to remind him of his days of glory and Ghost Warlock could feel a tear welling in his eyes, threatening to roll down his hardened and cracked face. Then he shrugged and called for his driver. An automobile pulled alongside him. The uniformed elf in the driver seat got out and ran to the passenger side, opening the door and saluting. Ghost Warlock nodded to the driver in approval and stepped inside the vehicle.

    He glanced down at his watch, 0700 sharp. He looked out of the window to watch his soldiers begin to march east, towards what is now Human territory. Towards that accursed little rat nest that the Humans called a village.

    “Now Mordokai… I shall see how these unkind years have treated you,” Ghost Warlock murmured under his breath He signaled to the driver and the vehicle drove off, heading for the front of the Teydar column.

    Now c'mon, I'm old, but I'm not that old!



    Awesome fic, TBW, I can't wait to see where this one goes. And I really love sitting on my accursed throne, mystic energies howling and crackling around me, as I watch the new recruits blow their heads off. The fools.

    Still, it looks like I'm villainous, yet oddly sensitive. At least about the "glory days." *hums song*

  27. - Top - End - #687
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Cristo Meyers's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Previously:
    Falling Part One - Game Start
    Falling Part Two - The Players Meet

    Curly/Mordokai/The Dryad/Mi'ir (Cristo)
    Falling Part Three - Love Quadrangles?
    Spoiler
    Show

    She rested in sweet little Mordokais' arms all the way back to safety. The little nature lover insisted that the tree they were sleeping under was 'friendly'. How can a tree be friendly? Now malacious and evil she could understand. She'd been drunk waaay back when and had been a little too involved in 'Truth' or Dare.
    Not that a demon would ever volutnarily tell the truth so it was dare after dare. Smirking into the broad shoulders of her gallant saviour she remembered with glee that she'd one that little game with the trees.
    Over ten thousand dead so far.
    No one ever suspects the trees . . .
    "Oh, I never introduced myself. I'm Flora." chirps the overly perky little dryad. What's she got to be so happy about? Doesn't she know that - oh wait. She doesn't!
    Oh, it's entertaining being evil.
    "My Lady Curly, I must leave your company for I have a meeting with an informant. Of sorts. I shall return but shortly." She smiled winsomely and practically gushed "Oh, I trust you good sir Knight. I know you'll be back soon." By Bahamut, this dizty airhead facade would be over soon. Hopefully, the'd put it down to shock. No way in Pandaemonium she could keep this up. After the gullible one had left she turned to the little tree girl.
    "Flora?"
    "Yes?"
    "Flowers."
    "What?"
    "Flora is the patron diety of flowers. You're a dryad. Of the trees."
    "Ah. Um. Mordokai doesn't know this, but I'm only training to be one. We can get upgraded you know!" she added defensively. Then she went on to say, "And besides, Flora can be seen as the goddess of all nature too."
    "You're exaggerating the truth to a paladin of Sune?! But I'll keep your secret. I can tell you like him." After all, now I can blackmail you or ruin your standing in his eyes forever. Although tht little minx did seem to have dryad powers which was rather vexing actually.
    A good few hours passed in rather interesting gossip and before Curly knew it Mordokai had come back.
    With a bard.
    A thrice a -cursed; intuitive bard!
    Then again . . . it seems that the bard and Mordokai had a history of some sort. Why hadn't Flora said anything of them? Curly, acting her part as the victim of vicious demonic attack rose timidly and curtseyed to them. "Sir Mordokai, welcome back. Is it too much for me to inquire as to whom your companion is?"
    "Fair Lady Curly, my name is Mi'ir. Bard extraordinaire and long time - "
    "We've known each other for a long time. He is one of my closest, though annoying, friends." Huh. Mi'irs' face fell a bit. Maybe they were - oh no. Is that paladin really all that popular?
    Well, all the more fun in making people Fall.
    But by Sekhmet the Ravenger, Mordokai was naive. Then again, he did cut in upon the . . . now babbling bard, so maybe they're covering something up.
    Oh. What a cute bard. Nice long hair, his voice sounded melodious enough; even if he was talking about kittens.
    And he had glorious legs.
    So, on the one hand: Mr. Dashing In Armour. And on the other: The Lovable Musician. And then the little 'dryad'.
    Maybe they'd let her keep the bodies?
    heh...kittens

    I foresee interesting possibilities here...even if I am apparently a complete airhead...

  28. - Top - End - #688
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    CurlyKitGirl's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by Cristo Meyers View Post
    heh...kittens

    I foresee interesting possibilities here...even if I am apparently a complete airhead...
    Possibly.
    The fic is yet short. And you are an 'intuititive' bard. Maybe it's obfuscating stupidity.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by V'icternus View Post
    Why is it that you now scare me more than the possibility of nuclear war?
    Quote Originally Posted by Dr. Bath View Post
    To compare [Curly] to the beauty of the changing seasons or timeless stars would be an understatement.
    Quote Originally Posted by Coidzor View Post
    But Koorly is the sweetest crime.

    Squid bones are lies.
    Bathatar!

  29. - Top - End - #689
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    PhoeKun's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    I ask you, the viewing public - where have I been all this time?

    Inquiring Phoes want to know.

  30. - Top - End - #690
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Cristo Meyers's Avatar

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    Default Re: Shippingitp III: We Make Love (And Sometimes War)

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Possibly.
    The fic is yet short. And you are an 'intuititive' bard. Maybe it's obfuscating stupidity.
    oooohhhhh...interest = piqued...

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